The Huntsman and the Realm Jumper
by helenluvsboo
Summary: Post-Cursebreaking, Pre-Series 2. Emma has two hours and fifteen minutes until Gold and Regina suck the magic from Storybrooke. What will she do with that time, her magic and Jefferson's hat? Get to know the man she loves, of course. Wouldn't you? ... Gremma/Swan Hunter. Tiny bit of Mad Swan. Rated M for a reason. NOTE: Will eventually contain sexual themes and mentions of rape.
1. Chapter 1: Jump

**The Huntsman and the Realm Jumper** by helenluvsboo

Chapter 1: Jump

A month ago, if someone had told Emma Swan that, in four weeks, she would be planning to jump into a magical hat to go to a magical world to find her recently-deceased love, she would have spat nails and had them committed. Now she knows better.

"This is tricky," Jefferson, said, "You need to hit the right time and place, no screwing it up,"

"I understand," Emma replied, fingering the page torn from Henry's book, a sardonic grin twisting her mouth into a kaleidoscope of emotions.

"Visualize it exactly, down to the last detail," Jefferson said, "and you can't go wrong. The hat should take you exactly where and when you want" He licked his lips, hesitated, then ploughed on, "Remember to speak to him in his language, he is not Graham Humbert, Storybrooke Sherriff, but his true self, the man raised by wolves who lives by their rules."

"I got it, Jefferson, get out the hat already," Emma snapped.

This was her one chance to see Graham—The Huntsman—again before Rumpelstiltskin and Regina removed the magic from Storybrooke, and she wanted all the time she could possibly have. He wouldn't know her. She wanted him to.

"You have exactly two hours and fifteen minutes," Jefferson said, eyes narrow, "you have to be back before then, or—"

"—Or I will be trapped there forever, I get it," Emma growled.

Jefferson grinned, teeth flashing with his eyes in response to her tone, "Now you sound like a wolf."

Emma's mouth twisted into a sardonic grin, and she replied, "Thanks, I have been practicing."

He looked up sharply, eyes narrowed, but deigned not to comment, for once.

She quirked an eyebrow at him, and he schooled his features into an unconcerned aloofness that she knew well from each time she had turned him down for a date, not ready for anything after Graham's untimely death.

"Jefferson," she said, "I have to do this, I need the closure—"

He cut her off, saying distractedly, "—You know, it is entirely possible that you HAVE to go, to forge a bond with him that carries over from The Enchanted Forest into Storybrooke and draws him to you here..."

"Good," Emma said, "Because I am going, no matter what you say,"

Jefferson thumped his hatbox on the forest floor hard, "Don't let me get in the way of your true love," he glowered.

Emma softened, "I'm sorry, Jefferson, I didn't mean to snap, I just want to see him one more time, can't you understand that? He died in my arms and I never told him that I cared."

Jefferson softened at that, but tightness remained around the corners of his mouth and eyes. "Alright, saviour," he replied, "Let's do this."

He spun the hat on the forest floor in front of her, and she closed her eyes, zipped up her red leather jacket, and envisioned the page from Henry's book—the Huntsman in the forest alone, before he met the queen and accepted the assassination mission that would become his eventual downfall—and jumped into the swirling vortex.


	2. Chapter 2: Yours

**The Huntsman and the Realm Jumper** by helenluvsboo

Chapter 2: Yours

It was like falling and flying at the same time, Emma realized, feeling along with her own magic as the hat's power bore her along the magical path to The Enchanted Forest, transporting her to the time and place she wanted so desperately.

She was unprepared for the landing, and she gasped when the portal spat her out, pitching her head over heels through the sharply cool forest air. She rolled over and over, tucking in her arms and chin, one hand grasping her father's sword, silently thanking herself for zipping up her red leather jacket before leaving Storybrooke, until she hit a thin tree.

Not a tree, she realized, but a pair of ankles, attached to a pair of legs, attached to a very surprised, very suspicious Huntsman, who was very much alive, and grasping a knife at the ready, prepared to strike should she pose a threat.

She grinned wolfishly, showing her teeth, and leapt to her feet, blond curls flying about her face, red jacket riding up, Charming's sword winking at her side. Her bright eyes scanned him from head to toe—it was him all right. Graham's name almost passed her lips, but she restrained herself. While Graham's personality was strongly similar to The Huntsman, they were not the same. She only knew parts of this man, not all of him, back in Storybrooke, and now, she only knew the parts of him that the curse had selected when constructing his other personality. Back to square one.

"Hello again, Huntsman," she rumbled deep in her chest as she had practiced in front of the mirror, trying for canine.

His hand wavered as he took her in, "I do not know you," he replied, asking, "What manner of magic is this?"

Emma licked her lips, at a loss because she had not thought to prepare herself to answer that question.

His eyes followed her tongue, and he visibly swallowed. A prickle of pride welled up inside of her. If she was turning him on, that had to mean something, right? Graham had immediately tried to convince her to stay in Storybrooke, had been interested in her from the start, despite his twisted relationship with Regina. This man had not been jaded by that yet.

"Time travel," Emma replied finally, then corrected herself, "Well, space travel... No, time and space travel," she finally settled on, with a short nod, eyes locked with his. He looked the same as she remembered, save the clothes. There was something different, though, a wildness that had not been so strong in Graham. She had noticed it in Storybrooke, lurking behind his eyes, but it had never seemed to be a big part of him. Now, it seemed to be most of him.

The Huntsman's brow furrowed and the knife lowered a bit more at her words as he tried to comprehend them.

Emma searched for the right words, then her face lit on, "Realm Jumping!" she seized upon the right words, the ones that Jefferson had used when he explained his profession and the hat's abilities, "I am a Realm Jumper," she said.

The Huntsman scoffed, eyes appraising her strange apparel, clearly still fairly unconvinced despite seeing her magically appear out of thin air only moments before, "They are a myth, an old legend of humans, lost to time—"

"But here I am anyway," Emma cut him off, stepping closer, adding "And I am not just any realm jumper,"

The Huntsman lowered his knife to his side, somewhat convinced that she was no threat to him, that while she may have some intentions, they were not to cause harm, and replied "Then what, pray tell, are you?"

Emma smiled a wide wolfish grin that had her teeth flashing and the Huntsman inhaling suddenly in response, his eyes darkening, "I am _your_ realm jumper," she purred, leaning close with eyes fixed on his.

And then she pounced.


	3. Chapter 3: Familiar

******The Huntsman and the Realm Jumper** by helenluvsboo

Chapter 3: Familiar

_One Year Ago…_

Graham Humbert, Storybrooke Sheriff, has never seen a woman quite like this one before.

And yet…

She seemed strangely familiar, Henry Mills' birth mother.

Something about the way she smiled awkwardly with the upturned curls of her thin lips drew his eyes. He felt like he had seen that exact same smile, on her, before. She knew how to put on a happy face. She seemed so very sad and haunted despite the positive emotional expression, which felt entirely too familiar.

Not because he saw that look in his mirror every morning. Well, Graham mentally amended, perhaps that was partially it. He recognized her hidden pain and self-loathing because he acknowledged it in himself every day and night. But this feeling… like he knows her… like he has seem that specific awkwardly tight smile, hiding the hurt… he has seen her before, he is sure of it. Absolutely positive.

But how is that possible?

He has never left Storybrooke, as long as he can remember, and she has never been here before, to his knowledge.

He would certainly remember if he had seen her before.

Wouldn't he?

Graham felt an ache in his chest. He swallowed heavily.

Heartache?

For a woman he had never met before?

How was that even possible?

Yes, she seemed familiar, but strangers never come to Storybrooke.

At least, never until this moment.

He swallowed, eyes lingering on her form.

Her blonde, curly hair shone in the streetlight, wild and untamable, like a lion. Her eyes flicked, taking in everything around her. Her shoulders squared, strengthening her stance. She was tough and tenacious, he could tell, even when trying not to appear threatening to the adoptive mother of her child. He wonders if she would ever let that guard down.

He shook his head, banishing those thoughts.

He couldn't possibly know her.

They had never met before.

But he couldn't deny her beauty.

That would be truly impossible.


	4. Chapter 4: Mine

Chapter 4: Mine

One moment she was astride him, thighs on either side of his hips, palms flat in the dirt on either side of his eyes, eyes locked on his, and the next, she was flat on her back with him looming over her in the same position, his eyes flashing with a defensive darkness she had only ever seen in other men. Never in him.

Quick as a wink, his knife pressed against her throat, cool steel reminding her that she had to be delicate. This is not Graham Humbert, despite similarities. Maybe wolfishness was not appealing? She just had to spark his interest so he would listen. She scrutinized his face as he returned the favour, hand steady, blade at the ready against her soft neck.

His pupils were dilated, so, clearly, something was working. She swallowed, reminding herself that she did not just come here to fuck him. He meant so much more to her than that. She wanted to love him for the remaining two hours, however he would let her. She wanted to see him smile and laugh and enjoy life before it would be taken.

"I'm sorry, Gra-" she said slowly, preventing herself from naming him, "I forgot that you are not MY huntsman."

"What does that mean?" he said, eyebrows pulled together as he analyzed her.

She sighed, and then winced as her skin pressed against the knife at her throat on the exhale. "It means that we know each other… in the future." His eyes did not waver, inviting more information. She swallowed. "I… you… we are…" she groped for the right word, "Like… friends…"she finally admitted, lamely. 'Missed opportunities and limited time had ensured that,' she thought sourly, and he must have seen her shift in expression, because he sat back on her calves, sheathed his knife at his side, and gestured for her to sit up with his free hand.

"I have never been friends with any human," he said, looking away, "especially not one as… strange as you."

She laughed wryly. "You have NO idea how strange I am, Gr-Huntsman." He looked up, eyes hopeful but tense.

His brow furrowed. "You keep beginning to call me another name and then changing to 'Huntsman'. Why?"

How could she respond to that without giving away any future details? "I… call you something else… there," She said, slowly. He pressed his lips together, clearly not believing the half-truth. "Look, I can't tell you too much, okay? If I share too much information I could alter the future and that… can't happen." She pressed her lips together anxiously.

He gave a small, comprehensive nod, eyes locked on her face, stating, "You are very emotional. Why?"

She looked away. "You've been away for a… very long… while and I really miss you." She suddenly looked up at him, feeling very vulnerable in this moment, here, with him. She hesitantly reached up to cup his face with both hands, like he did for her once, and then stopped herself, hovering, waiting for his permission. "Can I…?" she asked hesitantly.

His mouth's hard line softened, and he gave an almost imperceptible nod. Clearly, no one had ever asked to touch him with kindness or gentleness. He seemed uncertain. She exhaled in relief and cupped his face, fingertips brushing against his hair and palms enjoying the feel of his scruff and jaw. She'd always wanted to do this, and now, because of magical-inter-world-travel, she could. She closed her eyes, greedily running her fingers across his cheeks, pretending this was Graham—her Graham—in her arms. Her head fell forward of its own accord, pressing her forehead against his, and she felt AT HOME with someone other than Henry, her parents, or Jefferson for the first time in months.

And then she was tumbled on her back, and he was standing before her, eyes wide and breathing erratic.

"Who are you, really?" He demanded, looking down with fists clenched at his sides. "And what are you to me? Are you…" his eyes flicked away, to the forest floor, as he gathered his resolve, then back to meet hers, head on, "Are you… mine? Are you my… my… mate?"


	5. Chapter 5: Predator

**Chapter 5: Predator**

_One Year Ago…_

He's waiting, leaning against her yellow car, waiting for her to leave Regina's house, so he can convince her to stay.

Emma Swan ambles down Regina's walkway as if she'd been doing it forever, as if Regina's huge house is her own.

But something softens inside of her when she turns to look at her boy in the window. Something in her stance, some rigid control, loosens and she relaxes minutely, momentarily. He wanted to be the reason for that change, he wanted to talk to her, learn her, connect with her. He wanted her to stay in this town. Something about her, something beautiful and achingly familiar, although he has definitely never seen her before in his life, is calling to him.

"Sweet boy, wouldn't you say?" He says. She stops, turns, sees him, and that vulnerability is gone in the blink of an eye. He chased it off with his haste. "I'm Graham, by the way," He adds. He can't know her if she doesn't know him. And he really, really wants to know her. There is just something undeniably magnetic about her, Henry's birth mother.

"Emma," she says, and he considers that a small victory. "I have a long drive ahead of me," she continues, ambling closer, "So if you could find somewhere else to lean…?" She lets her voice trail off in a question, not asking, but telling.

He cuts her off before she can continue trying to move him. He would really rather stay exactly where he is. "I think it might be better if you stay the night," He says, and she moves even closer, peering directly into his face through the darkness. She does not blink, despite the contrariness of his statement, and her persona shifts, she is somehow more intimidating then before; leaning closer, voice lower, eyes absolutely fixed on his like a lifeline he never wants to release.

"That's kind of forward…" she replies, allowing the sexual connotations of his statement to hide the truth: that both he and her biological son want her to stay. They are miserable here with Regina reigning over them and they need her here.

He tries to brush it off, to hide his eagerness for her continued presence in Storybrooke, even just to discover where and how he knows her, with nonchalance and local knowledge, "I know Regina's drinks," he says, "I'd hate to get out the breathalyzer." Her eyebrow twitches but he soldiers on, too far gone now to backtrack, "There's a B&B up the road, Granny's, it's a lovely place." A smile quirks her face. He swallows. She sees right through him and makes use of it.

She moves closer, saying in a low, attractive thrum, "Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I only had one drink," she moves right into his personal space, commanding every inch of both it and his attention. "And I'm way…" her voice really does something to him, "Well," she changes course, "I'm not gonna tell you that." She smiles and his head drops. No woman has this much sway over him, besides Regina, of course. "But the point is, right now, I would blow a point-oh-six," He raises his head to meet her eyes, and she continues, her voice becoming even more charged with energy, "Well beneath the limit." He releases a pent-up breath and drops his head down again heavily. She's overpowering and he's helpless.

"Drive safely," he says, trying to show diplomacy rather than disappointment. He moves aside awkwardly and opens her car door, a last ditch effort to impress. Her lips twitch, but she gets in and he closes it, feeling lost as she speeds away.

It was almost… predatory, the way she moved.

She was confident. She was certain. She was alpha.

…It was wolflike. That probably shouldn't excite and arouse him as much as it did.

A part of him, locked away in the dark recesses of his mind, howled. It wanted to thoroughly _devour_ her.

For a moment, he connected with it… and he couldn't help but agree.


	6. Chapter 6: Prey

Chapter 6: Prey

She stares up at him, wide-eyed, unsure. For the first time in forever, she feels cornered. Totally ironic, she realizes, considering that she is the one who crossed realms hunting for him. She is the one who yearns for closure. She is the one who aches for a second chance to show him that he is loved, so very much, and by no one more than her. How can she answer this question? She is, undoubtedly, his. She loves him with every fiber of her being, fiercely as—though differently than—her one and only son. But how can she tell this stranger that?

"I…" she licks her lips, struggling to find the words, trying to explain. How can she clarify without forcing him to be with her? How can she interact with him without changing the future? How can she love him without affecting him? She swallowed. "I'm Emma Swan." she finally said, her eyes avoiding his, "In a way…" She takes a deep breath, steels her nerves and screws her courage, answering honestly, grudgingly, fearfully, lovingly, "Yes. I'm yours. And you're mine."

A moment of silence descends upon them. She squeezes her eyes shut. This is stupid, this whole plan is stupid. How could she have thought that she could come here and love him freely without consequences for the both of them?

Gentle, calloused fingers move over her face, tracing its contours as if trying to memorize her features. She opens her eyes and sucks in a breath. He is so close, crouching in front of her, staring with wide eyes full of wonder. "What could I possibly have done to inspire such emotion and devotion?" He asks, sounding as breathless as she feels.

She smiles weakly, collects herself, and says "You did everything you could for me. I… I was alone and angry and I had nothing. You believed in me when no one else would or could. You made me laugh when frustrated, helped me make a home near my long-lost son, and you…" her voice caught in her throat, "You believed in him—and me. You were in no position to side with me, but you did. You made me feel… For the first time… I mean, it meant the world to me."

He drops his hand to the forest floor, leaning on it heavily. "I… did that?" He asks disbelievingly. Why would he ever show such kindness to a human? They never showed him any. They went out of their way to bestow only cruelty and torment. She nods emphatically, trying to convey the seriousness and truth of it all. He believes her. "Why?" he breathes, "Why would I do that?" He leans forward to peer into her face, as if trying to read answers in her eyes.

"Because people have always been cruel to you," Emma said, "You think you'd never be kind to one of them?" His eyes widen and he swallows. He had always wondered. He had never been in a situation where he was positioned to offer kindness to another human being. What would he do, if he saw another human in some sort of pain?

"I don't know why you did it," Emma said in a rush. "Maybe you felt sorry for me. Maybe you were… attracted to me." One corner of her mouth curls up in a half-smile and they both chuckle, his chin falling to his chest. "But I think it was because… you saw something in me that you saw in yourself, and you wanted to make it better." He looks up suddenly, meeting her eyes. "You," she says, touching his shoulder gently, "Are a good man, Huntsman." He raises an eyebrow. She grins, "A good man who was raised by wolves!" She musses his hair, feeling happier than she had felt in a very long while, and then leapt to her feet. He looked up at her, eyes bright with happiness but burning with curiosity.

"You chased me," Emma said, eyes alight with teasing humour, "Even when I didn't know I wanted you." She fisted her hands at her hips, glaring playfully. Memories of him; leaning against the bug, teasing her for hitting the Storybrooke sign, cutting her off with sirens wailing, throwing darts; all flew by like a film reel of the best moments.

He cocks his head to the side, eyeing her. "Did I, Emma?" he asked, testing her name on his tongue, torn between humour and pleasure. She nodded. A comfortable moment of silence fell over them, he crouched at her feet, coiled to spring, her tense and ready to run at any moment. She breathes deep, recalling wolf behavior and forest survival research. She grins, grasps the hilt of her father's sword, sticks out her tongue teasingly, and then whirls to bolt into the woods, inviting him to give chase once more. Her heart pounds in her chest and she feels free for the first time.


	7. Chapter 7: Want

Chapter 7: Want

_One Year Ago…_

He is drinking his usual morning coffee in a booth at Granny's when he realizes: he just wants Emma near him.

Regina calls it a "schoolboy crush", but something deep inside him knows better. Some instinct of his calls out to Emma, and he needs her nearby so he can figure it out. She has to stay in Storybrooke: to be there for Henry, to keep changing things, and so he can figure her out. Something about the idea of her leaving seems so wrong, he feels guilty for wanting a complete stranger—who doesn't feel like a stranger at all—to stay in town so that he can get to know her. It's creepy. He knows that. Something inside of him reaches out to her and he knows that if she leaves, he will never understand.

It's sad that arresting Emma Swan is the highlight of his day. When Regina demands that he arrest her—(yet again)—for destroying city property, he actually wants to do it. A part of him is eager to spend more time with her, even with the bars of a cell separating them. And somehow—he thinks—that seems strangely familiar. But he also knows that Henry needs his birth mother. Henry needs more than this petty feud between two women who care about him. The boy is lonely and sad and Emma Swan makes him smile and laugh. A large part of Graham feels guilty for wanting to take Emma's time away from Henry, who clearly is desperate for her.

What is happening to him? He never used to feel so emotional, so passionate, so out-of-control, so… instinctual. Everything he has ever done has been a series of clear, logical choices, one after the other after the other, like dominoes falling over in a line. Perhaps he has reached the end of the set?

Regina's persistence in keeping Henry and Emma apart makes him nervous. The demand for Emma's re-arrest, the dismissal from the John Doe search—when Emma's skills would clearly be valuable—not to mention the constant jabs about owning Henry like he is an article of clothing or an accessory, they all make him feel uncomfortable. She owns the entire town, including him—something he hates to admit to himself—but Emma Swan is a wild card. She does not match the rest of the deck. She stands apart from the others and Graham wants to see her stay that way.

Thank god for her indomitable nature. Three people were needed to carry John Doe from the river. Only Emma could have pulled Henry and Doctor Hopper from the mine shaft. Henry does not have to talk to the school bus alone anymore. Henry's hope shines from every pore now. Emma can be the best deputy he could ever dream of joining the sheriff's station.

If only he could be as strong. Regina's noose feels tighter with each passing day. He feels a thrill of power when Emma joins the department, and him. It is, after all, his department. He wants to be free. If Emma can come here, info this town where Mayor Mills and Mr. Gold own everything and still be free, then, maybe, so can he. He can draw from her strength and add it to his own and perhaps, in time, he can throw off the bonds that hold him in place, keeping him coming back to the Inn for "Council Meetings," forcing him to follow the Mayor's orders, and trapping him firmly under Regina's thumb.

If he can follow Emma's example, then, surely, he can be happier. The hollowness that envelops his life is beginning to be filled. He feels more and more, in a way he never has before. He is angrier, at Regina for manipulating him, at himself for allowing her, at Emma for being so untouchable. He is happier, with every small defiance, with every smile from Henry, with every glance from Emma. He simply feels… more. Grasping Emma's arm to steady her after she pulled Henry from the mineshaft should not affect him so. Their hug feels far more personal than any night in Regina's bed. Their playful banter reveals more and more of their beings to each other. He feels more whole than he can ever remember feeling before, in his entire life.

His life is changing, for the better. Emma is changing him, without even meaning to. But he has to take the final step. He cannot rely on her to rescue him from 'the evil queen'. He has to choose himself. He has to face his fears.

Next to his abandoned coffee mug, his phone beeps. He picks it up eagerly, hoping for a text from Emma.

It's Regina.

She wants him tonight.

He swallows, shrugs his jacket on, and goes to the counter to pay for his breakfast.

And pick up a box of doughnuts.

He is sure to request a bear claw, because they are Emma's favourite.


End file.
